Life or Sacrifice
by FiveHandsSixFaces
Summary: May Day is interrupted when Lord Summerisle gives Sergeant Howie a choice- a life on Summerisle or a death in the wicker man. Sergeant Howie chooses life but is not entirely sure what he is in for. Slash. Non-con. Summerisle/Howie. Mature themes.


Sergeant Neil Howie was shaking so hard he felt like he was going to collapse. Passing out would change very little in his situation, given he was being dragged along like a rag in a dogs mouth. He could not struggle to free himself as his horror began to build as tall as the terror in front of him.

Before him stood a wicker man, an impersonation of a silly looking toy built out of cages that housed animals who were as innocent as himself. He could scarcely believe his eyes, it was as if he were being directly written into some dark story in the Bible.

He was reminded of how disgusted and amused he was to read about human sacrifice in the Old Testament, and how he pitied the people that would go against God to do the sick act. How surreal that he would become a direct witness to a backward civilization that enforced such Godlessness.

"Oh God- Oh Jesus Christ!" He gaped. He couldn't think of anything else to say. He wildly scanned the skies for angels or heavenly warriors. Surely if Biblical barbarity reigned in these lands then Christian miracles could as well. "No no, dear God," Howie begged the clear skies, "Christ!" He pleaded again.

A quick glance behind him revealed the steely, determined look on Lord Summerisle's face. That instant he knew he would get no where begging for his life with these people. They were filled to the brim with the Devil's vile lies, they truly believed murder could bring prosperity- they were utterly mad.

Lord Summerisle lifted his hand and the drum stopped beating. Howie took the pause in the silence to condemn the pagans for their foolishness but was silenced by the violent look on Lord Summerisle's face.

"It's true our crops failed." he said in his deep, stern, baritone voice. "And that you are the perfect sacrifice."

Howie's pride was unreasonably hurt by the remark. His good graces had been taken advantage of from the moment he stepped on the island and they had used it against him; and he had been labeled 'fool' for it.

"But I have faith our crops will not fail if you were to choose life instead of sacrifice."

Howie frowned. Were they mocking him? Would they not murder him after all, or was this just another trick to make him look like a fool?

"We have planned very meticulously to find a man of your caliber." Lord Summerisle said without a hint of personal emotion. "I have use for such a man."

"I am a Christian." Sgt. Howie said, his bottom lip quivering.

"Yes, we know." Lord Summerisle said with a hint of a smile. "You misunderstand, we have no intentions of converting you. It is clear to us that your faith makes you kingly."

The compliment was oddly gratifying out of the mouth of such a shrewd devil.

"If not a little pious." Lord Summerisle added.

It was a short-lived compliment.

"You are a clever man and I know if I were to put this choice plainly before you that you would be devout in your decision. I give you the choice of life or sacrifice." Lord Summerisle said. "If you choose sacrifice, you will give birth to our crops. If you choose life, you will fulfill your role a different way, and under my bidding. I recognize that path will not come easily to you, given your brazen nature…but you hold valuable qualities that are not easily found and I am willing to endure some hardships to reap some rewards."

"This is madness!" Sgt. Howie exclaimed. His eyes reeled toward the wicker man once more, aware that if he chose sacrifice his death lay in pagan ritual.

"Please choose carefully." Lord Summerisle said pleasantly. "We won't tolerate regret. We will give you some time to think it over."

It was eerie how quiet the community became. All the joviality of their instruments died, the wind and the sea was the only sound that echoed on top of the grassy hill. Even the animals were quiet. It was if Summerisle put a spell on everyone.

Sgt. Howie didn't know what sort of torture he would endure if he chose "life", but it would give him time. (Or so it seemed). Perhaps God was giving him his chance to escape. God might have revealed the bloodthirsty nature of the community to him so that he would be able to reign down punishment once he reached mainland.

"I choose life." Sgt. Howie choked out. He would be the hammer that brought this backward people to justice. "I choose not to be a sacrifice."

A genuine smile broke across Lord Summerisle's face.

"I am very pleased to hear it, but for selfish reasons, I'm sure. You would have made a wonderful sacrifice." He said gently. "Miss Morrison! If you will."

Sgt. Howie was literally shoved to the side and placed next to Lord Summerisle in the half circle. The band started up again and Rowan Morrison beamed as her clothes were ripped off of her.

"Wh-what are you doing? In God's name!" Howie stuttered in horror. The strong man who had dragged him up the hill laid two hands upon his shoulders, steadying him.

"Our crops must not fail again." Lord Summerisle explained to him patiently. "My dear Sergeant, I believe we have made ourselves quite clear. Please don't speak out of turn and allow us to go forward with our May Day."

"Oh my God- she's just a child." Howie said breathlessly as the strong hands held him in place. "An innocent…"

The torches lit the wicker man, and the swoons of Rowan Morrison were drowned out by the swaying and singing of smiling, dancing, madmen. Like God had led him out of the furnace he believed He would lead him off the island.

* * *

There was still more singing as ashes floated to the ground and the fire roared high.

"A victorious May Day!" Lord Summerisle roared throwing up his hands. The crowd responded with equal vigor, making Sgt. Howie cringe.

"How can people cheer for the murder of a child in good conscience?" He spoke to himself.

"I thank you once again friends! May the gods smile upon you, and may you have a safe departure!"

Horns and drums rang as the crowd made way back to the quaint, tainted village. Despite the long spring day, the light was beginning to fade, and night was starting to rest on the village.

"You must be tired from today's excitement." Lord Summerisle said squeezing his hand. "The Green Man Inn will be full tonight, and although we have much to discuss you look like you're in desperate need of a drink. Let it not be said that I'm a poor host."

The statement struck Sgt. Howie as outrageous, considering his host had just offered to burn him to death.

"Come along Sergeant." Summerisle said pulling him.

Howie was deep in thought as was led back to the tavern with Lord Summerisle hand-in-hand. How would he get off the island without transport? The only way was through Summerisle's own machinery. Tonight would not be a good night to flee. He would need to study the island, see where everything was kept. He could take a boat out and be discovered easily by Summerisle's people. He might only get one chance.

"You are quiet." Summerisle remarked with his usual pleasantness. "Don't be nervous, I assure you I will be every bit the gentleman."

"I don't believe you." Howie spat bitterly. "A gentleman doesn't murder young, innocent children."

Summerisle didn't seem the least bit disturbed by Howie's remark.

"The whole community is excited to have you here. It's touching. I hope to bring you as much joy as they wish upon us." Summerisle said squeezing his hand gently. "It's a responsibility I don't take lightly."

"What are you talking about?" Howie asked ripping his hand away.

Summerisle, for once, seemed to recognize Sgt. Howie's upset and stopped walking. The playfulness of his demeanor left, and a stern, calculating look replaced it.

"You chose life, Sergeant. A life with me." Summerisle said evenly. "I respect your choice, and request you respect it as well."

"You can't expect me to gladly be your prisoner!" Howie scoffed.

A few straggling locals passed them, their curious eyes giving them away as they made their way past Lord Summerisle.

"And so the struggle begins for Sergeant Neil Howie." Summerisle said seriously. "I hoped things wouldn't come to this so soon. I want to enjoy your company."

"Enjoy my company?" Howie repeated incredulously. "How dare you speak of happiness as I'm held prisoner here!"

"I think you need a drink." Summerisle said looking disappointed. This time he held Howie firm above the elbow as he walked with him.

The Green Man Inn was indeed very crowded. Several of the patrons were red-faced and raised a cheerful glass to Summerisle and Howie as they walked towards the bar.

"What can I get you both?" Willow asked. Her father was no where in sight as she eyed Howie seductively. That was just fine for Howie, he didn't particularly enjoy the bartender's presence.

"Two whiskeys." Lord Summerisle replied. She poured them, and song broke out. "Here you are Sergeant." Summerisle shouted over the noise. He put the glass in Howie's hand. "Drink up."

Howie's hand shook, much to his rage, and he swallowed it down hastily to hide his shame. Summerisle followed suit.

"Have another." Summerisle said sitting down. Howie also sat, his own legs were aching from the hike to the hill and back.

Willow poured another glass and handed it to him.

"No thank you." Howie replied through gritted teeth.

"I insist." Summerisle said in his no-nonsense way.

Howie hesitated before taking the shot.

"Have another, dear Sergeant." Summerisle said. The music and laughter was getting louder as was the pounding in Howie's ears. Summerisle plucked the empty glass from his hand and replaced it with another whiskey.

"What?" Howie asked, his terror starting to mount once again.

"One more for the road." Summerisle smirked. He downed his own shot gracefully.

Howie sipped his whiskey this time and surveyed his surroundings. Everything looked normal- well, as normal as he'd ever seen in the Green Man Inn.

"Have another." Summerisle repeated taking Sgt. Howie's still halfway full shot glass and handing him another.

"What in God's name are you playing at, Summerisle?" Howie demanded.

"I think another would do you some good." Summerisle said.

"You're trying to make me drunk." Howie snarled.

"You're going to want another!" A drunken man half-shouted in his ear before breaking into a laughing fit.

"You are going to want another, Sergeant." Summerisle said with a chilling smile.

The nightmare was far from over. Once again Howie felt the fool who was left out of the loop, the whole village seemed to know his fate.

"I don't want another." Howie said slamming the shot glass down on the bar. "I don't want your damned whiskey!"

"Very well. Then it's time to leave." Summerisle said with a long-suffering sigh.

The patrons of the bar laughed and cheered, and Willow gave Howie a wide-toothed smile.

"It's been a long day for you Sergeant." Summerisle said rising from the stool.

He was pushed out of the bar, the sounds of the loud villagers rang through the establishment as the cool air hit him. A transport was waiting for them.

"Where are you taking me?" Howie demanded. Summerisle smiled. "Going to put me in a cage? May I remind you this is a very serious offense? Kidnapping a police officer-"

"Calm yourself Sergeant." Summerisle said. "I am taking you to my home. You should know you're always welcome there."

"I suppose you think you're very clever Summerisle." Howie snapped. "You've got these people under your thumb, doing your bloody work. Let me inform you that you can't avoid the law forever. Your sins will find you out!"

"I hoped the drink would cool some of that hot blood." Summerisle replied sadly. "How do you keep up the energy to be full of piss and vinegar?"

"You have no idea how much trouble you're in, do you?" Howie snapped furiously.

"Please," Summerisle replied with genuine interest. "don't keep me waiting. Do tell."

"_Don't throw your pearls before a swine_." Howie reminded himself. He took a moment to compose himself under Summerisle's gaze. "Murder is a very serious crime."

Summerisle said nothing but continued to look amused. This infuriated Sgt. Howie more than anything- it was obvious that he was not the least bit concerned for his conduct.

The ride had been marked with a tense silence until they arrived at Summerisle's estate. The whole house was lit only by fireplace and its light stretched into the corners of the furnished rooms.

"Are you hungry Sergeant? I can have Broom bring up something for you." Summerisle said walking up the stairs.

Howie was famished. With nothing in his stomach the whiskey had slammed him hard and he fought not to appear tipsy. He felt his stomach cramp at the mention of food, but instead shook his head in the negative as Summerisle awaited his response.

"I'll have Broom send up some pastries anyhow, in case you change your mind." Summerisle said with a smile, as if he could tell Howie was starving by a glance. "Come with me, Sergeant. I'll show you to your room."

Howie ascended the stairs carefully, watching Summerisle sway his lean, long frame towards what he supposed was the master bedroom. The heavy wooden door opened and Broom walked out.

Summerisle leaned toward his butler and mumbled some instructions before he nodded and walked away.

"Shall we?" Lord Summerisle said gesturing inside.

Howie now felt his head swim unpleasantly. No doubt Summerisle had ushered him into his drunken state to comply with his lordships wishes. Even Summerisle had admitted to trying to drown out his "piss and vinegar" standpoint. The sergeant reminded himself to keep sharp, and not to be led to drink so easily again.

"Much better." Summerisle said with his usual handsome smile.

The room was furnished luxeriously, just like the rest of the estate. The rug was extravagant, as were the walls which were full of paintings. A burning oil lamp was resting next to the large bed, which was made up neatly. Howie was not at all surprised to find the bed spread held the image of a sun, emblazoned with the face of a man.

"I sent for your bedclothes." Summerisle informed him. "Although, I will be surprised if it makes it's way here tonight. You may borrow bedclothes, or if you prefer, wear nothing at all. No one will disturb you tonight."

"Thank you." Howie replied stonily. It was clear to him Summerisle's hospitality was wearing thin. "Goodnight, Lord Summerisle." He said sharply.

Summerisle's eyebrows raised slightly and flashed him a smile.

"Goodnight, Sergeant Howie." He replied politely. He turned to the oil lamp and dimmed it making the shadows grow longer.

"I suppose I'll see you in the morning." Sgt. Howie insisted. He wanted nothing more than to collapse on the large, soft bed. And for whatever insidious reason Lord Summerisle chose to linger, much to his irritation.

"I suppose you are correct." Summerisle replied full of humor.

From the moment Neil Howie awoke he had suffered traumatic experiences stemming from the man before him. Every episode had tested his resilience, but still Sergeant Howie could not have foreseen the event that unfolded before him.

Summerisle stripped himself of his shirt and undershirt before folding it neatly on a chair. He went to a large chest and pulled out two pairs of white t-shirts and patterned boxers. Howie swallowed thickly as he saw his former executioner unfasten his pants and pull down his drawers, flashing him his pale, naked, scottish ass before stepping through his pajama bottoms.

"_Shameless heathen._" Howie thought clenching his teeth. It was odd to see a man who dressed so lavishly in something so plain- or a man who seemed so polite do something so vulgar. Sergeant Howie stood taller when Summerisle approached him with the spare pajamas.

"I don't have anything long-sleeved, I'm afraid. I find comfort in heavy blankets, even in the summer. It's a habit I can never seem to break after winter. I hope that doesn't disturb you." Summerisle remarked.

Howie grabbed the bedclothes tersely from his hands and put them on the bed.

"Goodnight, Lord Summerisle." He repeated again, disgusted with his hosts previous display of nudity.

"And goodnight to you, Sergeant Howie." Lord Summerisle said again, but with less enthusiasm.

Howie remained standing as Summerisle stood before him. It was a good five seconds of silence until a knock on the door interrupted the uncomfortable moment.

"Ah, refreshments." Lord Summerisle spoke softly. He opened the door and Broom appeared with a basket holding what looked like baked cakes swathed in honey. "If you can forgive me saying so, I can't imagine how you aren't ravenous. Don't be shy on my account. Please have one."

Sgt. Howie couldn't deny himself a honey cake, and was secretly glad Summerisle pushed one into his hand. It dripped slowly down his fingers and he had to put each one into his mouth to get them clean. The cake was delicious and didn't last long. He wanted to grab another but didn't want to add gluttony to the list of offenses.

Howie felt more himself with food in his stomach, and the wariness that pressed upon him grew. He wished desperately that Summerisle would leave, but the man was oddly reluctant to go.

"Are you comfortable now?" Summerisle asked quietly.

"I think I would very much like some rest." Howie remarked. "If you _don't mind_."

"Not at all." Summerisle replied surprised.

"So if you would leave that would be excellent." Howie said sternly.

"Leave?" Summerisle repeated. "And be kicked out of my own bedroom? Surely not."

"Pardon?" Howie asked, his chest tightening. "This is your bedroom?"

"Of course." Summerisle informed him patiently. "And that is my chest of drawers, and these are my nightclothes."

"I see." Howie said, his patience wearing thin. "If it's all the same to you, I would like to be led to my bed."

Summerisle's eyes flashed with a strange mirth.

"Very well." Summerisle said. "Do you prefer the left or the right side, Sergeant?" his hand swooping over the bed before him. "I myself prefer the left, but am willing to sleep on the right if you-"

"You can't be suggesting that I share a bed with you!" Sgt. Howie exclaimed alarmed. "You can't!"

"Where else would you sleep?" Summerisle asked, completely unabashed.

"In a room, by myself!" Sgt. Howie said. "Your house is huge- don't tell me you don't have a spare bedroom- even the Green Man Inn-"

"My bed is nice." Summerisle said. "And you will find it quite accommodating."

"I certainly will not!" Howie scowled.

"I will not argue with you in my own sanctuary!" Summerisle roared suddenly angry. "Enough with your indignant chatter."

"Your lordship will forgive me if I simply don't wish to sleep in bed with another man!" Howie sniped.

"Then you will have many uncomfortable nights before you." Summerisle snarled. "Mine is the only bed you're welcome in on Summerisle."

"Dear God…you are a- a pervert!" Sgt. Howie gasped. He felt suddenly ill. "You're a bloody sodomite! A hedonistic sodomite!" He said pointing to Summerisle.

"How…draconian." Lord Summerisle said in his rich voice. It appeared he was starting to calm down after his outburst.

"Stay away from me." Sgt. Howie ordered. "I will not be raped by some-"

"Let me stop you right there." Summerisle said sharply. "I am not going to rape you. It's late and I'm very tired. If you want sex I will offer it to you another time if you like."

"No, I don't like!"

"Quiet!" Summerisle snapped. "It is well within my power to force you to commit acts against your will…but that is not the way I wish to carry on. I am asking you, reasonably, to go to bed. One night under the same covers with me hardly makes you a sodomite."

Sgt. Howie backed up against the door as Lord Summerisle slipped beneath the covers. It was locked of course. Broom must have been given instructions to keep the door closed. What was it that Summerisle had said? Sgt. Howie wouldn't be disturbed?

Summerisle laid his hands on his chest and closed his eyes. The oil lamp was still burning low beside him, but he paid it no mind. He didn't move except for his slow breathing. Howie could almost see the devil in his face.

"Are you coming to bed?" Summerisle asked with his eyes still closed.

"No."

"How unfortunate." Summerisle remarked. "I promise not to grab you in the middle of the night."

"I don't believe you."

"I've never been dishonest with you." Summerisle replied, his eyes still closed.

"You're a homosexual." Sgt. Howie accused. "There is a circle of Hell reserved for men who rape other men."

"I haven't raped anyone, and have no plans to rape you Sergeant." Summerisle sighed. "Nor am I a homosexual. Not in the strict sense, mind you."

"Blasphemy." Sgt. Howie gasped.

"You will save yourself a lot of anguish if you allow me to lead you into your assigned role."

"What assigned role?" Howie asked, his skin prickling.

"As my lover, of course."

"Disgraceful!" Howie gasped. "Never! I would rather die."

"You've already had your choice." Summerisle said ominously. "Do you dare go back on it now?" He said lifting his eyelids heavily. "I told you we won't tolerate regret. Miss Morrison was a fine offering, but hardly up to your quality."

"I didn't know you would murder a girl in my place. If I had known I would never agreed to this debauchery."

"Those are very dangerous words." Summerisle said softly. "I told you I had use for such a man as you…but what should I do with you if you refuse to be useful?"

Sgt. Howie felt the voice die in him. He recognized a threat when he heard it.

"I have a reputation to uphold." Summerisle added. "I will not be made a fool of in my own community. I should like very much if you would put aside your…Christian convictions… and invested some affection into our relationship. For my own sake as well as yours."

"Dear God…" Howie swore.

"Please do come to bed. I think you'll feel much better after a good nights sleep."

Sgt. Howie doubted he would. For now he recognized that he was still in just as much danger as he was when he stood before the wicker man.

He needed to get off the island and report these backward people who were being led by a murderous sodomite. However, he would have to play things very close to the wire if he were to succeed in his mission. Giving Summerisle what he wanted occasionally would give Howie more time…however unpleasant.

Sgt. Howie steeled himself and sat on the bed. He began to undo his shoes when Summerisle spoke softly,

"Very good Sergeant. I knew you would eventually see things my way."

"_You're digging your own grave Summerisle._" Thought Howie. "_This won't end well for you, I promise. For the righteous will prevail!_"

* * *

**I wrote this more for my enjoyment then for an audience. I've always been fascinated with The Wickerman. (And I guess you are too, otherwise you wouldn't be reading this). Because it's such a select interest I don't expect many reviews, but I would love some.**

**So if you could spare the time please write one. I would really appreciate it.**


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